


In Need IX

by DirtyDuchess



Category: Wentworth - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyDuchess/pseuds/DirtyDuchess
Summary: Months later, Joan is back and in need of The Cleaner's assistance.I started this at the end of S4 when I was convinced Joan would be let out of prison. So it is AU.





	In Need IX

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to JoansGlove and Ifitbelove for your wonderful friendship through recent hard times <3
> 
> And Sara, for showing me what is possible.

It was almost seven months later when the phone call came. Seven months that had passed in a haze of going through the motions. Getting up, writing in the mornings, cleaning in the afternoon - dull, mundane work for people trapped in the suburban nightmare I so despised. More writing in the evenings. My thesis had at least come on leaps and bounds but life had lost its spark of colour since Joan had vanished so suddenly. The first month or so I'd spent in a state of constant anticipation, hoping I'd be called back to that beautiful house even though I knew deep down, Joan being a woman of her word, that she wouldn't call. 

I almost hadn't even answered the Unknown Caller to my mobile that morning, I never usually did. But I sat up in my desk chair with a start as I recognised that husky voice. She sounded different though, almost panicked as she asked me if I would come to her house immediately, to help her with an urgent difficulty. Joan, ASKING me to help her! This was new and I knew something was wrong when she asked me to hurry. Deciding that running would get me there quicker than any bus, I pulled on my shorts and vest and headed out within five minutes, pausing only to collect and pocket the collar Joan had gifted me all those months before from my bedside drawer. 

I ran as fast as I could, wondering what the hell could have happened for Joan to need my assistance after all this time and, although it was Autumn, I was already sweating by the time I'd covered the three miles or so to her house. The door flew open after only the second knock of my knuckles. Joan filled the entrance, looking stunning in a flowing, grey silk blouse and wide-leg black trousers, her beautiful hair pulled back in a ponytail. She urged me inside. She was still stunningly beautiful and imposing but somehow different. I was shocked at the change in her. She seemed lost, uncertain. 

But not as shocked as when I saw the house. The place looked at first glance as though it had been burgled but, as I ventured further inside, as though squatters or junkies had occupied it. The floor of the open plan living space was covered in trash, furniture was turned over, the TV gone. The place was filthy; it smelt stale and of decayed food. Joan paced the room, stuttering and waving her hands distractedly, all the while pulling on her hair. Mouth slightly open, I surveyed both the carnage and Joan, picking up from her mutterings that she'd just got home after months away. To this. 

She looked on the verge of some sort of meltdown. Thinking fast I knew I had to get her out of there. Ignoring every physical instinct that it was a reckless and dangerous thing to do I moved towards her and, reaching up, gripped her firmly by the shoulders. I felt her flinch but she came to a halt and didn't pull away. Making contact with those deep, dark, liquid eyes, I stated firmly, "Joan, I need you to leave for a while. I want you to go and get some groceries." It was the first thing that came into my head. "Buy some flowers too. I need you to stay away for two hours, will you do that?"  
Joan nodded and I noticed the slightest twitch in her left cheek. She picked up her keys and bag from next to the front door and left.

Fuck! I let out a deep sigh and set to work. As soon as I heard her car leave, I flung open all the windows in the house. Donning some black latex gloves from under the sink (my heart thumped when I saw my box of XS gloves was was still there next to Joan's L), and working as quickly as I could, I filled twelve sacks with trash; pizza boxes, beer bottles, drug paraphernalia, even a couple of filthy and stained blankets and t-shirts. I rushed around the house making calculations. There was no way I could get the place cleaned to the usual standard in less than two hours but it somehow seemed important to rid the place of all traces of others. I knew that Joan's agitation was due to her precious home being violated. Thankfully, her bedroom was untouched, if covered in a sheen of dust. I could tell by the way her ironed bedsheets remained taut, the hospital corners still intact. I could have bounced a coin off the surface of that bed! Her ensuite was also unused but the main bathroom. Jesus! It was worse than any student house I'd ever seen. 

I almost wretched as I cleaned that toilet, sink and shower; then I moved on to a hasty sweeping and mopping of all the floors. I was dripping with sweat; I'd never worked so hard or fast in my life, never had something seemed as important as calming that lost, wild look in Joan's eye. As I scrubbed the kitchen surfaces with bleach, I suddenly thought, shit, the fridge! Joan was about to bring food back and I hadn't checked it. I opened it and almost gagged. A plate, which had once contained now unidentifiable food, sat on the middle shelf. It was a green and furry mass. Fuck! I grabbed another trash bag and, holding my breath, transferred the entire plate into it, along with the few other items in there, trying not to disturb or inhale the living organism. 

I donned a fresh pair of gloves then rifled in the cleaning cupboard for the antibacterial spray. I pulled all the shelves out of the fridge, dumped them in the sink and scrubbed. I then started to wipe down the inside of the fridge but realised I couldn't reach the very top. I needed my reaching step but would Joan have kept it? I thought of the most logical place - the cupboard under the stairs where the vacuum cleaner, laundry rack etc were kept. I opened the door and found it tucked in a corner at the back. I felt a fleeting touch of nostalgia and flicker of arousal, remembering what had happened the last time I'd used it, before I remembered what was left to do. I hurried back to the kitchen, jumped on the step and got back to work. 

Joan arrived back ten minutes later, dumped paper grocery bags on the counter and went back outside before returning with armfuls of white lilies. "I know it's not as it should be yet, but the worst is gone." I blurted. Joan nodded, eyes roaming around the room. I could see her visibly relax although she still looked different somehow. I wasn't sure if it was the clothes, her hair or something else.

"You're not properly dressed," she murmured almost accusingly, her eyes fixed on my throat. "My pocket, I wasn't sure...." I babbled and indicated with a nod of my head. Joan moved directly in front of me, her long fingers slid over my hip into my pocket and pulled the collar slowly out. "You found it then?" indicating the step. I nodded, utterly rooted to the spot. Joan moved against me as she slowly, yet expertly, fastened the collar around my neck. She lowered her head and pressed her nose against it as she had the first time I'd worn it. I heard her inhale steadily, her hands resting lightly on my waist. Weirdly it felt as if she were welcoming me home. "Thank you," she said simply. I didn't underestimate the gratitude contained in those two words.

"I'm not done, I'll be here for a while yet."  
Joan changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt and we worked side by side for another three hours until the place was practically sterile. It was as if she could cope with doing that once the obvious signs of strangers were gone. By then I was on my fourth pair of gloves and we were both drenched with sweat. But the place looked as good as new and I could see the flicker of the old Joan in the way she glanced at me.

She instructed me to strip in the kitchen and then locked amused eyes with me as she slowly began to remove her own clothes. I felt my knees weaken and arousal prickle across my naked skin as she slid her pants over her hips and never ending legs to reveal that bountiful, dark bush. When she finally reached behind her back to unhook her bra and reveal her luscious tits, I felt wetness flood my cunt. Joan bundled my clothes and her own into the washer and I was almost certain she wiggled her arse for my benefit before she turned to face me. "Shower, now," she commanded. My clit sparked at the reemergence of the commanding woman I desired so much.

I climbed the stairs, hotly aware of her naked presence only inches behind me. Her hand pressed into the small of my back as we entered her shower together and she reached over me to turn it on. I groaned as jets of hot water hit my sweaty skin and aching muscles from all angles. "Good?" she enquired, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. Squeezing a dollop into one hand she turned me to face the wall and proceeded to massage it into my hair. The sensation of her long, firm fingers pressing into my scalp sent waves of desire straight to my cunt. She pressed her body into mine, her soft fur tickling my lower back and her breasts pressing into my shoulders. I inhaled sharply as her erect nipples brushed my electrified skin. 

I felt her breathe in my ear as she reached for a subtly spiced shower gel. "Assist me," she murmured as she squeezed gel into both of our hands. Rubbing them together in front of me to lather it, she cupped my breasts and spread fragrant bubbles across my chest, steadily increasing the pressure over my nipples until I could no longer stop myself and pressed my body back into her mons. Sinking her teeth gently into my shoulder she pulled my hands to my belly. "Cleanse yourself." Together we rhythmically circled my belly, up and down my thighs; when Joan covered my hands with her own and pressed them between my legs I couldn't help crying out. 

Then she was suddenly gone. I turned to see her standing only a foot from me, now circling her own breasts with soapy suds. As I reached for her, she shook her head, "Not yet. Just watch." It was delicious, exquisite torture watching this tantalising woman soap and stroke her own body. I could tell from her face how much she enjoyed me groan as she washed between her own legs. I knew that the wetness I'd just washed away from myself had been replaced in an instant. 

Obviously now satisfied with our level of personal cleanliness, Joan slid her body back towards me. "I'm going to fucK you now," she stated. Her confidence, her absolute certainty that I was hers for the taking was making my pulse race and my wet vulva pulse. "Don't move." Joan walked from the shower, my eyes fixated on her arse, which I determined to get my face into the minute she would let me. She returned almost immediately carrying my reaching step in one hand, a leather harness dangled over the same arm, a bottle of lube under the other and three dildos in varying sizes and lengths in the other hand. "Take your pick." I chose the thick, purple ridged one; slightly larger than I was used to, but I really wanted to feel Joan stretch me out, to push me further than I generally liked. I saw her eyes widen ever so slightly and could tell she was pleased by my choice. 

She discarded the others and stepped into the harness. It astounded me how she could make even that action so sensuously graceful. Joan gripped me by the hips and lifted me easily onto the step; she kissed me hard and deeply. It was rough but sensual and I felt my cunt turning to hot liquid as she moaned into my mouth. Pulling away she reached for the bottle of lube and, locking eyes with me again, fixed and then milked her cock as she smeared lube along its length with one hand, the other gently stroking along my collar bone. Her hand slid up my throat and around to grip the back of my head whilst the other, fingertips sticky with lube, gently pushed my thighs apart before moving back to the head of the dick to guide it into my slippery slit. I could hear myself panting in anticipation. I needed her inside me so badly. "Put your arms around my neck," she urged, as, flexing her hips, she began to push into me. I was so open and ready for her, my cunt already pulsating in anticipation.

"Do you like it? Tell me," husked Joan in my ear, her tongue flickering the lobe as she slowly opened up my cunt, the substantial dildo stretching me wide open. It felt incredible, SHE felt incredible. "It...feels..really..good.." I gasped, my hands tightening around her neck. She kissed me again, her tongue probing deep into my mouth as she pushed right up to the hilt inside me and then froze. "Fuuuuck, Joan," I moaned. She cupped my arse cheeks with both hands, pulled her cock slowly out of me again and, without warning, slammed back into me. Gripping one of her shoulders hard and wrapping my other hand tightly into her hair, I lifted one leg around Joan's waist and rode the dildo, my hips surging to meet hers as she fucked me hard.

I was desperate to, but hesitant as to whether I was allowed to touch her. As if she sensed it Joan lifted my hand to her breast. I filled my palm with her substantial, soft tit, my fingertips rubbing over a big, stiff nipple. As I gripped and pulled it, Joan bit down hard on my lip, her tongue shooting back into my mouth in a ferocious tongue fucking that matched the delicious thrusts of her thick dick inside me. One hand still in her hair, pressing our foreheads together, the other roamed over as much of Joan's body as I could reach, finally coming to rest on the arse I worshipped so reverently. 

Humping her cock hard, I rubbed the top of her cleft before sliding two fingers between her cheeks and, stroking over her arsehole, gently eased the pad of my forefinger inside her. The action seemed to spur her on. I swear she growled as the force of her body slammed me hard against the shower wall, her hips churning her cock rhythmically in and out of my cunt. It felt utterly divine, I was so stretched open, just for her. I'd never been so wet, so aroused; the feeling and sight of Joan pounding in and out of me, her gasp of pleasure as I slid my finger right inside her - I could already feel myself climbing the crest to orgasm. 

Joan began to pant, her mouth open against my own. Deep inside me she began to circle her hips, tilting her pelvis forward to thrust her clit against my own. The change in movement, the pressure against my swollen clit frantically heightened my arousal; I slid another finger into her arse, firmly stroking her tender flesh, and pulled her so deep into me, moaning and desperately rubbing our slippery vulvas together until my orgasm hit me so hard that I collapsed onto her. "I'm not done yet. Not until I've come inside you." Joan held me up against the wall pulling my fingers from her arse with a gentle pop. Wrapping both of my legs around her waist, teeth bared and grunting, she continued to fuck my spasming cunt. Gripping her cock, my arms tight around her neck, I pulled her close until with a final heave and long moan she in turn collapsed against me, pinning me to the wall. I held her tightly and silently to me, feeling our heartbeats race, then slow. 

******************************************************************************

The sweet scent of white lilies filled the kitchen as Joan cooked a simple but delicious dinner. I sat on a bar stool comically encased in her huge, white bathrobe and drinking a glass of Shiraz as my clothes span in the dryer. We ate dinner in companionable silence, after which Joan de-robed me and helped me back into my now-clean running clothes. Kissing me gently she murmured, "Time to go home. See you next week, usual time?"

I nodded, smiled and left.


End file.
